


Silver & Scars

by TheRo0ks



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Monsters, Swordfighting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-04
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:55:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24544996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheRo0ks/pseuds/TheRo0ks
Summary: (Y/N)/Reader insert Eskel fic. Honestly, I haven't planned out the plot so enjoy the shit show.Tumbler Username for Witcher Content: straight-outta-kaer-morhen
Relationships: Eskel (The Witcher)/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 65





	1. Prologue

Prolouge:

It was late spring when he appeared in Vizima. The silver sword on his back indicated his profession. (Y/N) had never seen a Witcher before. She'd heard about them often enough through her training, and they seemed to always be involved in the latest gossip among the sorceresses. It was no secret that some of the most respected sorceresses had a taste for Witchers.  
Many of the villagers avoided the dark haired man. When the male got close enough she could see a twisted scar on the side of his face, and yellow eyes that peered down at her through dark lashes. "Witcher." She said with a nod of acknowledgment.

"Are you (Y/N)?" The Witcher inquired.

"How can I help you, Witcher?" She asked with a soft smile. 

"I need medicine, or herbs...depends on what you have." She was startled when she studied the man. He was clutching his side as blood coated his hand. 

"You need a doctor." She said gently, pulling his hand away from the wound, replacing it with a cloth to staunch the wound. 

He shook his head, "I can brew a potion, I just need celandine, and to meditate." His voice was gravely.The sorceress wasn't sure if it was due to the biting pain, or if it was the natural tone of his voice. 

"My house isn't far." She said moving to help the man, but he gently brushed her off. It was clear to her that he didn’t completely trust sorceresses. "Do you have a name?" She inquired as she kept pace with him.

"Witcher is fine." He said with a grunt.

An exasperated sigh escaped her lips, "are you always this stubborn?" 

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest, which immediately had him gripping the wound in pain. A small smile pulled at her lips. His laugh was intoxicating, and she decided as she unlocked her door that she wanted to hear it again. 

Her fire hadn't completely gone out. There was a small flame flickering amongst the darkened logs. The man took a seat near the fire coaxing it back to life, as the (p/c/l) woman gathered his needed ingredients. She handed him the bundle of herbs and he went to work brewing the potion. She watched in wonder as he worked. Magic was nothing new to her, but this was different. There was an art to what he was doing, and he seemed lost in his element as he blended the ingredients together. 

The stranger was fascinating, and she found herself drawn to him like a moth to a flame. For such a large man his fingers were nimble as he worked. When he finally downed the contents of the drink his eyes fluttered shut, and his body relaxed. The man was deep in meditation, and the sorceress felt like an intruder on a sacred practice. Quietly she crept away to give the man peace.

*

**

Mortar and pestle worked together to grind the herbs. It was a nightly ritual to restock the tea bags, and herb bags she sold at the market. The earthy aroma filled the room calming her senses. Something about the stranger's visit had left her feeling less than. He'd left as soon as he finished meditating. Perhaps if she'd listened to Triss Merrigold she wouldn't have been overlooked. The man would have seen power and been drawn to it. Instead he found a lowly sorceress surrounded by herbs and a spoiled dog. There was a time she could have been great like Yennefer or Triss Merrigold, but she decided a long time ago she would not meddle in the affairs of kings. There were enough people for that. She used her gifts to heal, and helped bring peace to those around her. Which is precisely why she was overlooked. A Witcher would want someone exciting. A woman who held all the power of the world in the palm of her hands. The man would have no use for a woman who lived simply, devoted in her service to others.

She dropped the pestle with a frustrated sigh. It didn't take long to sort the herbs, and restock her bags for the morning. "Oh Wren." She said collapsing in a chair by the fire. The small dog was quick to occupy her lap. "It's hopeless. He didn't give me a passing glance. He wouldn't even tell me his name." She huffed. A stale silence settled around the pair. 

A novel was never too far out of reach for the sorceress, and it proved to be a useful distraction from the mysterious man. Eventually she found herself doing her nightly ritual of stocking the fire, and locking her home. It was almost eleven when she finally slipped under the silken sheets, and found herself a restless sleep.

*

**

The Inn was crowded, but Eskel had managed to find a table tucked in a corner. His mug of ale was almost empty, but he was too lost in thought to notice it. He kept thinking back to the words Lambert had said some time ago, ‘stay away from dangerous women.’ It was wonderful advice, but it went against everything a Witcher had been altered to do. Running towards danger seemed to be a primal instinct at this point, which is why Geralt had so many relationship problems over the years. Powerful woman seemed to be a Witcher’s downfall. 

“Are you a Witcher?” A sultry voice snapped him from his thoughts. 

She was pretty with honey hair, and sea blue eyes. Her hourglass figure proudly displayed. Eskel gave her a nod of confirmation. “Need another ale do ya?” She asked, reaching over him. The smell of lavender and jasmine engulfed him. “Or is there something else I can do for you?” She inquired, running her hand across his shoulder. It didn’t take him long to decide that he needed a distraction from his thoughts. A pretty barmaid would do nicely. It would be a short distraction. Most barmaids preferred a quick romp, but it didn’t matter much to him. She was using him to enact a fantasy, and he was using her as a distraction. He knew he was in no position to judge, or complain. So he let her lead him to a back room. 

It dawned on him as she was walking away that he never got her name. He felt as if this should bother him, but he found that he simply didn’t care. She never bothered to ask for his. However, it was the lack of emotion that he was currently experiencing that bothered him. Would a normal person care about such things? It had been a long time since his emotions were altered. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel anything, but logic seemed to take over in situations that emotion typically would have. 

He found the innkeeper and paid for a room. In reality it was just a secluded area with a large window to meditate. He knew he’d need to prepare for tomorrow’s hunt, so he went to work readying his gear. Eventually he let his mind escape, and let his body rest.


	2. Chapter 1: The Kikimore Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t contain my excitement, so I decided to put this up a day early.   
> Trigger Warnings: Violence against kikimores, and semi-descriptive injuries

He'd been in the swamps since dawn. He'd tossed a coin to the ferryman who'd brought him across the water to the swamp that laid on the outskirts of Vizima. The royal guard had put a contract on a Kikimore that was killing townsfolk. The monster was inhabiting a cave that held mushrooms Vizima's citizens liked to collect. 

Eskel had found himself trekking through bogs to find the hidden cave the kikimore occupied. He knelt by a fire, busying himself with bombs and potions. There was very little he could do against a queen Kikimore, which he expected was tucked away safely in her cave. Aard would work against the smaller kikimore workers, but the warriors would also be a pain to deal with. 

He set to work brewing insectoid oil. He would need a lot of it to take care of the nest. He brewed several batches of swallow, white honey and White Raffard's Decoction. If potions would do little against the Kikimore queen, healing potions may at least keep him alive long enough to drag himself back to the sorceress's doorstep. She could at least patch him up enough to keep him alive.

He shook the thought away. He couldn't afford any distractions right now. 

The silver blade slid from its sheath with a soft shwink. He popped the cork of the insectoid oil and generously coated the blade. He didn't know when there would be a break long enough for him to recoat the blade, so he hoped that this would do until then. 

He made his way through the swamps, his senses on high alert. There were several corpses he passed that had been picked clean by the kikimores. 

His ears picked up the tud da tud da tud of spindly legs on the spongy earth. He was quick to cast quen throwing out a golden orb. The sharp legs of the kikimore warrior shattered the shield. Eskel was quick to roll to the side of the beast. Slashing out his silver blade he heard a monstrous screech, which he knew would cause the workers to join the fight. 

Vesemir's voice echoed in his head. Always keep moving. A moving target is harder to hit. He threw out Aard knocking a smaller kikimore to the ground. He was quick to deal the killing blow, and leapt out of the way just in time for the larger kikimore to take another swipe at him. 

He could recall Lambert saying heavy attacks were best used on Kikimores, and he was in an open mindset considering the turmoil that was going on around him that he decided to see if there was any truth to the younger Witcher's statement. 

The only problem he realized a second too late, was that heavy attacks tend to slow one down. He felt his flesh tear open as a razor sharp leg swiped at him. 

His blow landed in the kikimore's throat, and it stilled. He pulled the silver blade from its mouth, quickly casting Aard as he spun. Three more kikimore workers were knocked on their backs, and he was quick to slay them. 

He downed some swallow, and with shaking hands he poured more insectoid oil over his blade. He knew the cut would start stinging and aching once the adrenaline wore off. He only hoped that the potion could numb the pain and start the process of healing. 

He collected the few monster parts he needed before continuing towards the cave. He knew there would be at least one more warrior patrolling the swamp, and who knew what lied in the cave. 

He cast quen once more, in the event he was taken by surprise. He couldn't have cast it soon enough when he felt the pressure on the back of his calf, and his shield shattered once more. He took a few quick swings at the kikimore dispersing it. He threw Aard a couple more times as a few other smaller kikimores attacked. 

He was dousing the blade in more insecticide oil when two kikimore warriors crested the hill. He let out an audible "fuck," as they approached.

He rocked to the balls of his feet. Agility was easier when he wasn't caught flat footed. He threw out Quen for good measure, and readied himself for the first strike. 

Both kikimore's threw their legs up in an attempt to impale him. He tucked into a quick roll slashing upwards as he came to his feet. He sidestepped to miss the kikimore's back legs and sent a heavy blow crippling it in the back. He was quick to dodge the other kikimore, but one of the many razor sharp shell teeth left a shallow slice across his thigh. 

With a few more strokes of his sword both beasts were dead. He inspected the wound as he caught his breath. The blood loss seemed to be minor, and the wound he acquired earlier seemed to be seeping blood. His jacket was ruined with soaked blood. By the looks of it, the cut had bled like a bitch.

He downed white honey to clear out the toxins surging through him. He then threw back some more swallow. He inspected the mouth of the cave as he pulled out the one bottle of brown oil he carried. He hadn't bothered brewing another bottle, because he wouldn't have the time to reapply it once he was in the middle of the fight. He set to work coating his blade once more. He moved his bombs to his chest. It was unlikely they would do much damage, but it may slow the queen down enough for him to get a strike or two in. 

He didn't have much of a plan for fighting the beast. All he could do is throw quen signs, try to get an occasional hit in, and run like hell. One swipe from the queen could be lethal even for a mutant like him. 

He took a deep breath as he popped the cork of a cat potion. The potion smelt vile, and it would burn going down. He didn't think on it anymore as he downed the contents. He'd learnt the longer he thought of a potion, the harder it always went down. 

He felt his vision alter. His eyes fluttered irritated at the sudden change of light. He let his eyes adjust a moment, before stepping into the mouth of the cave.

Eskel's eyes darted around the tunnel. He could make out silhouettes of stalagmites hanging from the walls. Cat was a useful potion, but Eskel hated when the color was drained from the world and the small details taken away. He had to rely heavily on his hearing, and hope the potion lasted through the fight.

The tunnel sloped down into a wide cavern. Eskel could see a massive spindly silhouette tucked in the corner. He couldn't deny it looked more terrifying in the dark then in broad daylight. It was moments like this that he was thankful for the mutations. The healthy dose of fear that should be pumping through his veins was silenced. Instead he felt a primal need to kill. 

He cast quen as he slowly approached the kikimore. He decided on a heavy blow while he had the chance. If he could sneak up on the monster and weaken it, perhaps the rest of the fight would turn in his favor. 

He drove the silver blade down as deep as he could go. He felt his shield shatter as he was thrown back. He found himself slow to get up when he landed. Half heartedly he chucked a bomb in the direction he assumed the kikimore was in. He heard a screech as he finally got to his feet. He signed quen and took off running. He could hear the tud da tud da tud behind him, as her spindly legs brought her closer to him. He dove to the side bringing his sword up with a swipe landing another blow on it's leg. He felt his shield shatter, and acid spewed on his thigh. "Shit." He cursed stabbing the small kikimore, before slaying its companion. He signed quen again before hucking another bomb at the queen. He hadn't time to drink any white honey as he dove out of the way from a blow from the queen. 

The queen was weakening, and his thigh was burning. A heavy blow or two would finish her off. He cut quick to the side, and brought the silver sweeping across her legs. Black blood poured from the missing limbs, and she released a vile spit of acid. Quen absorbed most of the toxin, in the process of it shattering some spewed across his chest. Eskel was quick to deal the finishing blow. He sent silver straight through her armored skull. The kikimore gave a violent shudder and finally laid still. 

Acidic fumes from his wounds clouded his vision, leaving him gulping for air as the bile rose up his throat. He found himself vomiting into the sand. Tears were leaking out of his burning eyes as he popped the cork on the square vile. Eskel downed the contents of the white honey feeling some of the pain ease. His tearducts opened as they flushed the acidic fumes from his eyes. He wiped at the tear tracks on his cheeks. His chest and thigh felt like hamburger from the acid eating away at his skin.

Dragging himself to his feet he pulled out a torch to see. The cat potion leaving his system as the white honey did its work. He quickly set to work destroying the eggs.. He limped out of the cave. Twilight was fast approaching, and he was in no state to be caught in the swamps at night. 

*

**

She awoke to a pounding on her door. Her dog lept up with a yelp at the intruder at the door. It had been days since she'd last seen the dark haired Witcher. She assumed he'd gone on to the next town in search of contracts and coin. Which is why she was startled to find him leaning against her threshold, looking like he was on death's door.

"Witcher!" She gasped instinctively reaching out to the man to steady him. What she wasn't expecting was for the towering man to practically land in her arms. "Oof," she grunted, digging her heels in to support him. "Let's get you up the stairs." She said guiding him up the narrow stairway. His hand tried to find some support against the wall as she hefted him up the stairs. The man was barely conscious. 

By the smell of him, he'd been in the swamps all day. The Witcher was fighting fatigue, blood loss and pain. He hadn't given much thought past making it to her doorstep. His body finally gave out as he passed out halfway on the bed. She was careful to pull his boots off as she lifted each leg onto the bed. 

His pant leg and flesh had been melted away by the acid. She brought her small hands above the wound concentrating on the incantation she recited. Slowly the acid seemed to disappear, and the skin closed up leaving a few new scars in its wake.

She carefully cut away at his pants. Attempting to persevere his modesty best she could. She couldn't risk any traces of acid transferring from his pants to skin. Besides she mused holding up the shredded pants, there was never a hope of mending them anyways. She tossed them on the fire, and the acidic residue engulfed the pants into flames.

She found another fresh scar, a wound she assumed he acquired earlier in the day. When she went on to inspect his wounds she found some more bubbling skin from the acid that was spewed onto his skin. Stripping him of his jacket and shirt she went to work healing the wound. She threw the jacket in a bin of water, and tossed the shirt in the fire as well. Even the witcher couldn't argue that burning the garments was the safest way to dispose of the acid. She quickly went to work healing the wound and tending to other minor cuts.

The bloodied jacket was calling to her from the wash bin when she finally stepped away from him. She grabbed her laundry soap and set to scrubbing the jacket. 

She was surprised to find the jacket had been lined with a soft buckskin colored leather. She could only guess at when the last time the jacket had been washed. 

In a life that seemed so long ago she had brothers. Brothers who wouldn't have thought to do their laundry or take the occasional bath had her mother not ordered them to do so. Her smile faltered, that had been long ago. Before her father sold her for a pouch of orens to the Aretuza Academy. They had passed many years ago, but heere she was: still young, beautiful, and alone. 

She snapped back to reality as she hung the jacket to dry. The Witcher would be out for the rest of the night, so she took her purse and headed to the local armorer. Feeling a bit of guilt at burning the Witcher's clothes, even if it was unavoidable she would replace them. 

A gruff voice could be heard behind the wooden door as she knocked. No doubt she'd roused the poor man from his sleep. "What do you want?" The dwarf inquired gruffly. 

"I need pants, and a shirt." She made sure to jingle her purse for good measure. The dwarf seemed to perk up at the sound of coin. He nodded, and in a gruff voice said "come in."

"What kind of pants are you wanting?" 

"Something leather, and black. A good fit too." She added. 

"It'll take me a moment to fashion something in your size lassie." He began before she shook her head.

"It's for a man. A large man, around six foot." She said thoughtfully. "And I want a white shirt. Something soft, but sturdy." 

The dwarf raised his eyebrow, "dressing your lover?" A small chuckle escaped his throat. "Woman have to have their hand in everything." 

A blush bloomed on her cheeks, "he isn't a lover."

"Ah, but you're blushing like a maiden." The dwarf said with a shake of his head. "Fret not, your secret is safe with me." He pulled out a shirt and pants. "Have him come back if they don't fit right." She thanked the dwarf before handing over the sum, with a little extra. 

•

••

•

Exhaustion finally hit as she sat by Eskel's side. She reached out to grab his hand. His large palm felt warm in her hands. Her eyes felt heavy as she laid her head on the edge of the bed. (E/c) eyes slowly fluttering shut.


	3. Chapter 2: The Healer

Heavy eyes cracked open. Amber eyes were staring up at dark support beams, and white walls. The room was bright, and a faint eucalyptus smell lingered in the air. His body felt like he'd been run over by a carriage. 

A faint snoring could be heard near his head. He glanced over to see a ball of fur curled up on the pillow next to him. On his initial visit he assumed the small dog was spoiled, and seeing her lounging on the bed confirmed his suspicions. He flexed his fingers, feeling silky skin against his left palm. 

He slowly sat up to see the pretty sorceress passed out next to him. Her small hand must have lost its grip during the night. He brushed her (dark/light) hair, and was pleasantly surprised to find it so soft. She began to stir slowly sitting up, "you're awake!" She cried excitedly.

Hopping up from her chair she inspected his chest injury. "Looks like it happened a month ago," she murmured, her fingertips running up it. Eskel’s body gave an involuntary shutter the sorceress kindly ignored. 

It's now that Eskel became starkly aware of his own nakedness. She turned quickly, grabbing a bundle of clothes. "I had to burn your pants, and shirt. There was no salvaging them, they were covered in acid...and I tried to preserve your modesty as best as I could-."

A small smile pulled at the corner of his lips. Her nervous rambling was endearing, and he had to admit she looked adorable while flustered. "Thank you." He said cutting her off. 

A blush bloomed on her soft cheeks, "you're welcome." (E/c) eyes snapped over to the dog, "I'm so sorry. She has terrible manners. I had no idea she jumped up in the middle of the night." She went to grab the small dog who was now snuggled up to the Witcher's side. Eskel waved her off, "it's fine. You've done me a kindness." 

A small nod came from her, "I'll draw a bath." With that she set to work heating up some water. She poured a few different oils into the tub, and left soap and a rag for washing. "The bath is ready. I'll leave you to it." She said disappearing down the stairs, the brown and white dog was quick to follow. Eskel could hear the sorceress softly chiding the pup. 

"You are a spoiled animal Wren. You're proof I'd make a terrible mother." 

Eskel eased himself into the bath. The hot water relaxing his muscles. There was something about the small lodgings that felt like a home. Perhaps it was the gentle voice that spoke to the dog as if it were a small child, or the books that lined the walls. After listening to her soft chatter with the dog he concluded that she would make a wonderful mother if she had been given the choice. 

He stayed in the bath long after it had gone cold. The pants and shirt she'd acquired seemed to fit him just right. He'd come down to see her speaking with a young pregnant woman. "And you're sure they're still alive?" The young woman inquired, her hands cradling her stomach in the way only a mother knew how. 

"I'm positive, and if you don't believe me, ask the Witcher. I'm sure he can hear their little heart beating." 

The girl shot up hopeful eyes at him, and he gave her a nod. A wide smile beamed on the young girl's face. Eskel was startled at the reaction. Usually he received a sneer or a look of fear from people. 

"Now, if you need any help with the delivery send someone, and I will be there right away." She said before handing her a bag of herbs, "and take this. It's chamomile, it'll help with an upset stomach and cramping." 

"Oh, but I haven't any money." The girl began before she waved her off. 

"Don't worry about it." 

Green eyes lit up as she quickly threw her arms around the woman. "You're so kind." 

"Oh." Y/N said a bit taken back as she returned the hug.

The young woman turned to the towering man, "and you sir are a very lucky Witcher." 

This solicited a blush from the (small/moderate/tall) sorceress at the assumption. The woman scurried off before either could correct her. 

The (h/c) quickly turned away from the Witcher to hide her rosy cheeks. "You must be starving." She exclaimed, grabbing some fresh bread, and a small platter of meats and cheeses. "Forgive her Witcher. She's young, and-."

"It's Eskel." He said cutting her off. He rubbed the back of his neck, his bashfulness making him appear a younger man. "My name is Eskel."

"Eskel," she repeated hearing the name roll off her tongue. "It suits you." 

His ears perked up at the sound of it. His name sounded like honey on her lips. In that moment he decided he wanted to hear her murmur his name again.

"I'm sorry for the trouble," he began as he reached for his coin purse. 

She waved him off as she sat the platter on the table, occupying the seat across from him. "It was no trouble. Besides, you gave me an adventure yesterday." She said, pouring two cups of tea. "Though I doubt it compared to yours." Her eyes flickered up at him as he reached for the bread.

"What made you think taking on a kikimore nest alone was a good idea?" She exclaimed. "If you had asked I would have happily accompanied you." 

Eskel raised an eyebrow, even as a child Vesemir never scolded him like this. He could of course recall Vesemir taking a strap to both him and Geralt on numerous occasions, but this was foreign. It wasn't at all unpleasant he had to admit. 

"I wouldn't let you near a kikimore nest." Eskel said bluntly. A spark crackled in her eye as she cut her gaze to the fire. "You're a healer," Eskel began. "Your skills are best utilized here." He added.

"I wasn't always a healer." She mumbled, taking a sip of tea. The feeling of inadequacy swept through her again. A Witcher wouldn't want her slowing him down. It was a fair statement, regardless of her feelings in the matter, it still cut like a knife to hear. 

"Your affinity isn't healing?" Eskel inquired. 

Damn Witcher senses, she thought. "No." She said simply, sipping her tea. "I was told Aerokinesis is a terrible thing to waste." 

"The kind of magic that could help change the outcome of a battle." Eskel commented, his eyes narrowing. 

"A lesson I learned quite young." She gripped her mug. Her eyes were half in a memory. 

"What happened?"

"I used to be ambitious." Her eyes snapped up to look into his amber ones, "my father sold me to the Aretuza academy. I thought if I worked hard enough I would one day be able take control of my life." Her eyes traveled back down to the steaming mug. "They saw potential in me, so they invested in me. Everything has its price."

"They called in your debts?" Eskel inquired.

Y/N nodded, "I was in servitude to King Medell until he passed. Foltest acquitted me of the debt, on the condition I call when he answers." She sighed, taking another sip of her tea. "A little better than the lap dog I was, but if he says dance, I dance." 

"Is healing a way to atone for your sins?” Eskel asked, plucking some cheese from the platter. 

“I’ve seen men piss themselves on the battlefield. Fighting a war they have no clue about, and for what?” She asked, leaning back in the wood chair. “So another generation of kings can argue again?” She picked at a loose thread on the ivory table cloth. “I find no honor in that. Senseless wars lead to widows, and orphans. I’d rather have no hand in that.” 

Eskel studied the woman for a moment. The regret was evident in her eye of hard lessons learned. “Power isn’t easily given up.” He hesitated, “it takes a strong person to walk away.” Eskel cleared his throat, and stood gathering his weapons, "you can stay a while longer." (Y/N) said tentatively. 

"I need to let the Royal Huntsman know the kikimores have been taken care of." Eskel stated, shrugging into his jacket. 

"Oh, of course." Y/N said, attempting to hide the disappointment of his departure with a smile. 

Eskel hesitated, he knew he should say more. Promise her he'd be back, but growing close to anyone on the path was a bad idea. Besides, what would someone so beautiful want anything to do with him?

He hadn't missed how the light caught the warmth in her eyes, or the way her dress hung on her soft supple hips. His fingers ached to hold her, and caress her silky skin. She deserved more than him. "Thank you, for keeping me alive." Perhaps if he pretended not to care she would push him away.

"You're always welcome here." She said from the doorway as he stepped onto the street. He didn't look back as he disappeared into the crowd. 

•

••

•

"The kikimore is dead." Eskel informed the Huntsman. 

The man let out a low whistle, "I didn't think I'd see you back here Witcher." The man admitted. 

"Where's my coin?" Eskel dead panned. 

The man threw the sack of gold orens his way. "As promised."

"Got any other work?" Eskel inquired as he secured the pouch. 

"There's a downers nest in the swamps. The local sorceress is the only one brave enough to venture those parts." 

"The local sorceress….right." He muttered. "What's the reward on that contract?" 

"150 Orens." The Huntsman said, pushing the notice towards him. 

Eskel peered at the paper, "150 is too low. I can do it for 200 orens." A trip back to the swamps was unappealing to the Witcher. 

"Deal." The Huntsman said, "the local sorceress lives a couple buildings away from town squar-."

"I know, we're acquainted." Eskel cut the man off. It seemed like fate kept pushing him back to the woman's doorstep. Eskel had learned long ago not to mess with destiny, but he was determined to keep the sorceress at a distance. 

"Very well Witcher." With that, Eskel was dismissed. 

He'd thought about going back to the sorceress. She would most likely allow him to stay, and he wouldn't have to spend some coin on a room. His heart desperately wanted to see her lovely smile again, which terrified him. He knew he shouldn't allow himself to dream of her. Perhaps she felt something towards him, but that would quickly melt away in the fall when he resumed the path back to Kaer Morhen. 

Love had no place in a Witcher's life. No matter how badly Geralt would try to fight it. His brother's each had their weaknesses. For Geralt it was beautiful sorceresses, Lambert was a staunch cynic, and Eskel had a habit of running away from his problems. Change was hard for the inherently stubborn man. He’d accepted the life of a Witcher years ago. He hadn’t chosen this life, but all he could do was make the most of it. Perhaps he was bitter when he was a younger man, but the bitterness never drove away the loneliness. Perhaps, if a sorceress could change maybe he could too. That’s what he tried to convince himself of as he reappeared on her doorstep, his hand already knocking.

“Eskel.” The surprise was evident in her voice as her (e/c) pools gazed up at him.

“You know of the Drowners nest?” 

A small smile quirked up at him, “always business with you.” She stepped aside allowing him in. “Let’s talk about my reward.”


	4. Chapter 3: The Drowner Contract

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the fluffiest thing I’ve ever written. I guess I was in some type of mood this week? Anyways, maybe Eskel is too playful in this? Might be a bit out of character? Idk let me know what you guys think!

"Let's talk about my reward." Her lips were pulled into a coy smile.  
Eskel attempted to keep his grin at bay. It was clear she knew how Witchers worked, and found amusement in teasing him. He stepped closer to her, leaning down, his voice husky against her ear, "and what kind of reward do you seek?" 

Amber eyes watched her body involuntarily shudder. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips, "a book." She breathed. "I can't seem to find a copy in Vizima." She explained. "If you ever find a copy during your travels, all I ask is that you bring it to me when you get the chance."

Eskel pulled away, surprised at the simple request, "and if I can't find it?" 

She just shrugged as she grabbed the kettle from the fire, "every year that you come back without it you'll have to spend the day with me, doing whatever I want." 

The (petite/lean/curvy) sorceress was cunning. Pulling him back to her doorstep with an innocent promise. Eskel couldn’t deny the attraction he felt for the woman, and a possible friendship with her warmed his heart. He could only imagine what kind of hoops the woman would have him jump through, but he found himself eager to please her. “Deal.”

She stuck out her small hand for him to shake, an amused smile pulled at his lips. All of his contracts refused to touch him on the account they believed him to be a monster, but here was a woman who appeared as a delicate flower standing before him eagerly waiting for the transaction to be sealed. He took her hand, and was surprised to find a firm grip. 

“Negotiating is quite the thrill.” She commented. “I think I would make a wonderful Witcher.” She teased as she turned to pour two cups of tea. 

A laugh bubbled inside Eskel’s chest, “Perhaps Vesemir will take on another trainee.” 

“Is Vesemir the head of your school?” (Y/N) inquired, leading him to two chairs in front of the fire. 

“Yes, he trained Geralt and I.” Eskel said, taking a seat across from the sorceress. 

“Geralt?”

“We grew up together. He’s like a brother to me.” Eskel explained. 

“I had brothers,” the (h/c) mused. “A long time ago.” She added.

They spent the better part of the evening in each other’s company. Neither one wanted to admit they were tired. The comfortable conversation the two had conjured was magical. Both feared that if either stepped away it would break the chemistry the two shared. 

It was Eskel who suggested sleep when he noticed the sorceress’s drooping eyes. She had stubbornly refused, and Eskel found himself carrying the (petite/lean/curvy) woman to bed after she fell asleep in her chair. 

*

**

*

The pair had made their way to the docks early the next morning. Eskel shouldn’t have been surprised when the sorceress suggested teleporting to the swamp. The thought of teleportation made him uneasy inside. “The ferryman isn’t too expensive.” 

She thought of teasing the man, but hesitated seeing the genuine unease in his feline eyes. “I trust you to help me ashore if the boat sinks.”

“You can’t swim?” Eskel raised his brows in surprise.

“Oh I can swim...just not very good.” She admitted gazing into the dark water. 

The sun was just cresting the hill when the two climbed into the boat. Y/N was seated across from the Witcher as the ferryman guided the rickety vessel through the water. The trip was silent, except the gentle waves that lapped the side of the boat. 

When they finally stepped onto the spongy earth of the swamps, Eskel paid the ferryman. The sorceress had occupied herself with collecting some fools parsley. Eskel was silent to approach her. He took the opportunity to bask in candid moments of the sorceress’s life. The small facial expressions she made, or the ease in which she did most things brought a warmth to the Witcher he couldn’t quite comprehend. The simple, silver embroidered tunic she wore was practical, as were the worn black boots and cloth pants. 

He’d expected an extravagant outfit when she’d met him at the foot of the stairs this morning. Yennefer and Triss always seemed to be adorning the latest fashion whenever they had wintered at Kaer Morhen, so he’d assumed she would do the same. Perhaps his knowledge of sorceresses was lacking. 

(Y/N) glanced up at him, with a soft smile. “Are you ready?” She stood up before he could reply, tucking the herbs into a pouch that hung from her belt. 

They picked their way through the swamp. The sorceress took care to avoid the many bogs that were disguised as shallow puddles. Having learned the hard way the sorceress now knew better. 

The trip through the swamp was a little slower then Eskel was used to, but in no way unpleasant. The sorceress’s legs were much shorter than his, so he understood. She managed to fill the time speaking about various books she’d recently read. Occasionally when the conversation died down, Eskel could hear her singing under her breath. 

It was around noon when the sorceress came to a stop. “It’s just over that hill.” She said, gesturing to a steeply sloping mound. A few trees were scattered along the hill, and a few patches of long stemmed grass. The mud that coated the mound would make it difficult to climb.

“Do you have a plan, or are we just going for it?” The (petite/curvy/lean) woman inquired. 

Eskel looked surprised, “you want to help?” 

A huff escaped her pout, “I didn’t trek miles into these swamps to not get my hands dirty.” She said tossing her (h/c) hair behind her shoulder. “Besides, someone has to watch your back Witcher.”

The stubborn, feisty streak that came out occasionally in the sorceress had Eskel feeling things he hadn’t felt since he was a boy. He thought he became immune to crushes long ago, but this (e/c) eyed beauty was determined to prove him wrong. “Kill as many as you can.” Was Eskel’s only comment as he began wading through the swamp to scale the slippery hill.

The sorceress was quick to follow. They crested the hill both covered in mud. There was little either could have done to avoid the muck. Eskel was about to pour some oil on his blade when a yelp escaped the sorceress. His eyes snapped up in time to see the ground give way beneath her feet. 

She was helplessly sliding down the muddy slope towards the drowners nest. There was no purchase for her to grab onto. Electricity crackled at her fingertips, she’d decided her best option would be to prepare for a fight. The drowners had come running for her as soon as they heard the sound of earth moving. She threw a bolt of lightning at the closest drowner. The air grew hot and heavy from the electric currents in the air. Thunder rumbled in the sky as she pulled a bolt down from the sky.

Eskel was surprised to see the sorceress managing so well. He felt a raindrop on his forearm. As soon as a crack of lightning came down on a drowner, the skies opened up and sheets of rain came falling down. Eskel slid down the hill on the soles of his boots. His left hand behind him kept him balanced. He threw out igni at the first drowner he came across. Quickly lopping its head off. 

He soon found himself fighting next to the sorceress. Her sopping clothes clung to her skin, and something behind her eyes crackled with life. “You look magnificent.” Eskel commented signing Igni at a group of drowners.

A chuckle escaped her as she brought down another strike of lightning, “you’re rather impressive yourself.” 

With a final stroke of his sword the drowners were dispatched. The two made their way over to the nest. Eskel lit a grape shot tossing it into the middle of the nest. “Back up.” Eskel said instinctively, grabbing her hand pulling her away from the nest straight into his arms. 

He could feel the energy still crackling under her skin, and her eyes had turned smoldering as he tilted her chin up to him. He leaned down, hesitating a moment, but she stood on her tiptoes to guide him to her lips. 

Her lips were cold from the rain, but he was pleasantly surprised at how passionately she kissed. Any doubts or insecurities he may have had were put to rest. There wasn’t a thing she’d rather be doing, as she took her time exploring his mouth. 

The snap of a twig was all he heard. Eskel quickly shoved the sorceress behind him, his silver blade already in his hand. A bloedzuiger has emerged from the murky pool. The sound of the grapeshot going off had drawn the monster to them. 

“Run.” Eskel said flatly, backing up from the monster keeping the sorceress behind him. By the Witcher’s tone she did not hesitate to obey. She scrambled up the hill, out of the Witcher’s way. She’d never come across this type of monster in the swamp and had no knowledge of what the monster was capable of.

It looked terrifying; sharp teeth ringed its mouth, and long needle claws swiped at Eskel. The dark haired Witcher was quick on his feet. Using igni and his silver blade in unison. The way he dodged, and striked looked like a dance to the (short/moderate/tall) woman. 

Eskel’s silver blade sank deep into the monster’s flesh. It appeared that the fight was over. In the blink of an eye the monster exploded into a mist of lizard green acid. “Eskel!” The sorceress cried, slipping down the muddy slope, running as fast as her legs could carry her. 

She found him laying face down in the mud. She fell to her knees to check for any signs of life when two strong arms shot out wrapping around her waist, pulling her down into the mud with him. She let out a startled squeak, as he rolled on top of her planting a kiss right on her lips. He broke the kiss as chuckles rumbled through his body. Dark hair tickled her cheeks as she peered up at his feline eyes. 

“I cannot believe you!” She cried. “Making me think you were dead, and then basting me in mud.” She propped herself up on her elbows, “don’t think your boyish charm is going to get you out of this on-“ he cut her off with his lips. 

Her mind went blank at the feel of his full lips. The unabashed kisses came as a bit of a shock to the sorceress. He’d been so guarded the first time they met, and one kiss was all it took for the man to open up. The kiss was over too quickly, “please let me teleport us to a bathtub.” The sorceress muttered inspecting her mud soaked clothes. 

Eskel chuckled, pulling her to her feet, “you’ll get used to it.” 

Y/N rolled her eyes, “I take that as a no to the teleportation to a bath.” 

“No to the teleportation.” He said, leaning closer to murmur in her ear, “I never said no to the bath.” 

The sorceress turned red as she watched the departing Witcher. She knew he had a smug look on his face. He knew exactly how to push her buttons. “You coming?” He asked turning, walking backwards a few steps waiting for her to catch up. 

“You’re helping me up this hill.” She stated, as he graciously held out his hand to pull her up the steep slope. 

The trek back through the swamp was slower than before. The sorceress was miserable in her wet boots, and she could tell the Witcher was fairing the same. 

Twilight had hit when the two finally reached Y/N’s home. “I’ll heat up the water.” Y/N said walking up the stairs. Eskel followed a bit slower taking in the various artwork that hung on the wall. Y/N had already stripped herself of her boots when Eskel leaned against the wooden bathing screen. “Rose hip, or lemon verbena?” She inquired, studying two glass bottles. “Lemon.” She muttered to herself pouring a generous amount in the empty tub. 

“Would you fill the tub?” She inquired, as she grabbed some more soap. The cauldron was awkward, as Eskel poured the water in the tub. He placed the empty cauldron over the fire where it hung. Y/N had started to undress when Eskel brushed her hair aside, his voice husky in her ear, “allow me.”


	5. Chapter 4: Between the Sheets <NSFW!>

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW sex ahead! Please do not read if you are under 18! 
> 
> Kind of a short chapter, but I wrote smut so, there isn't much else I could add in this chapter.

Nimble fingers loosened the tie on the back of her tunic. He peeled the fabric away from her skin. Lips pressed against her shoulders sending a shiver down her spine. Turning her he went to work on her pants. With a shimmy of her hips she helped the fabric slip down her legs. Eskel’s pupils dilated seeing her soft skin exposed. His breath escaped his lips as he let the brassier slip from her shoulders. Hands were soon exploring her skin. Cat eyes focused on her bare breasts mesmerized by their soft shape. A soft moan escaped her lips at his ministrations. He slipped down her body, tall enough to be eye level with her stomach. Kissing her navel he slipped her panties off. His nostrils flared at her scent. He had to thank his heightened Witcher senses at times like these. She smelt absolutely divine. 

It was a chore to stand again. Automatically he started stripping the various articles of clothing and gear. He ignored the clang of steel and silver on the floor. Typically he would take great care with the blades, but he found himself caring little when a goddess was standing before him. 

He helped her into the tub when he was undressed, settling in behind her. They washed in silence, while the sexual tension lingered in the humid air. 

She could feel him hard behind her, and she couldn’t wash the mud out of her locks fast enough. When they were both clean, they were desperate to explore each other’s touch. Eskel carried her out of the bath placing her on the soft mattress, wasting no time by climbing on top of her. 

His lips were electrifying, and his large palms felt good against her skin. Her fingers tangled in his dark hair. He peppered kisses down her neck. Lingering in areas that made her moan. Eventually love bites littered her skin. 

His lips traveled to her breasts, capturing her nipple in his mouth, rolling it against his tongue. She tugged on his hair as she let out a moan. Her back arched into him, as her fingers scratched his scalp. Shocks of pleasure traveled to her core. He continued his ministrations until she was soon squirming under his touch. Her hot skin was desperate for more. 

Eskel’s lips traveled down her navel to her core. Heavy lidded eyes watched him anticipating his lips on her mound. Cat eyes flickered up at her as he lowered his mouth onto her. She bit her lip, throwing her head back at the sensation. Instinctively her legs tightened around his shoulders. He continued swirling his tongue around her clit until she was squirming desperate for more. He added his fingers, curling them into her g-stop, rubbing in a steady pace. Soon she was a shaking mess coming undone on his fingers. 

He was soon hovering above her once again sealing her lips in a kiss. “You’re amazing.” She breathed as he smoothed her hair. “I want to make you feel good too.” 

“I just want to be in you.” Eskel stated, stopping her. 

She smirked, pushing him on his back, “I can do that.” 

Once she was on top she guided him inside her. His fingertips dug into her hips as she sunk down on him. A small burn of pleasure filled her as he stretched her. “Fuck you’re big.” She moaned. Her head dropping to adjust to his side, the pleasure too much. Her (dark/light) locks tickled his chest. Hands gripped the head board as she started moving, finding a quick pace they both enjoyed. Her thighs started to burn from the steady rhythm she created. Her fingers slipped down her body to rub her clit, causing pleasure to seep through her veins. Her hand slipped from the headboard to the bed gripping the sheets. Her breathing steadily picked up until the coil in her core snapped sending her over the edge. She kept the pace through her orgasm, strong hands wrapped around her pulling her into the Witcher’s warm chest. He picked up the speed once more, and she relaxed her hips to allow him to choose his own rhythm, and he was soon coming close behind her. They stilled, her face buried in his neck as they caught their breath. His arms still held her tightly against him. 

“Was that good?” She inquired softly, peeking up at his face. 

His eyes flickered down, before pulling her into a deep kiss. “It was perfect.” 

Eskel got up to clean them both up. Soon they were cuddled up in Y/N’s feather bed. The sorceress traced the scars on his chest, and his mind seemed to wander off the edge of the world. Finding the right words was difficult for the dark haired Witcher. She was soft and sweet, and he was jaded and reserved. He could only describe her as a euphoric drug. The comfort of her warmth kept bringing him back to her doorstep. Soft skin were whispers of warmth against his hands, and had him begging for more. Winter was already fast approaching, and he’d already spent days longer then he’d planned in Vizima. 

“I’m leaving Vizima tomorrow.” He murmured, hoping his soft deep voice would soften the finality of his words.

A pang felt sharp in her heart. She knew he’d be moving on, but she didn’t expect it to be this soon. His body had felt so nice against her that she had half hoped he’d tell her he’d stay. Logic was telling her that it was the Witcher way to move on, but she had hoped she would be enough to make him stay. “I understand.” She forced the words out, even offering him a smile. 

“Don’t be a stranger if you ever pass through Vizima.” She added, (e/c) eyes flickering over the plains of his body attempting to memorize every part of him before he left. Perhaps this would be the only time their paths would cross, and he’d taken everything from her. 

He hadn’t meant to steal her heart, and she hadn’t meant to offer it. Love didn’t care if both participants were willing. It took what it wanted, and spared none. Calloused fingers traced her jaw, pulling her gaze into amber eyes. Pressing his lips to her’s he crawled on top of her. She felt his length press against her skin. At least the rumors regarding Witcher’s stamina were true…

*  
**  
*

Tired eyes fluttered open at the sound of silver and steel. The space next to her was empty, and she quickly set up worried the Witcher had already left. “I didn’t mean to wake you.” A deep, gravely voice called from the other side of the room. 

“Were you going to leave without saying goodbye?” She tried to make it sound like a joke, but it came out small, and tentative. 

He placed his gloves on the vanity before making his way to the edge of the bed. Feline eyes never leaving her. The mattress dipped with his weight, “I would never leave you without saying goodbye.” He brushed a lock behind her ear. “I promise.” 

A soft smile warmed her face at his words, “thank you.” Her eyes flickered up to his, “you’ll always have a bed here if you’re ever passing through Vizima.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips, “I’ll be back next spring.” 

She followed him out of the bed, dragging the blanket with her. He gave the small dog’s head a pat before heading down the stairs. He stopped at the door turning to her, she looked radiant in the soft morning light. He knew his feet would be taking him right back to her doorstep as soon as winter passed. 

“I’ll see you in the spring?” She inquired.

He nodded, “stay safe.” He murmured against her lips, before pressing a final kiss to her lips. 

She watched him mount the black stallion, and with a final wave of her hand he disappeared down one of the many alleyways.


End file.
